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Quæ
semper
celebrat
superna
Curia
;
"
but
the
sabbaths
he
dreamed
of
were
not
the
sabbaths
of
the
Kirk
.
The
world
,
the
tangible
world
,
was
broken
for
him
in
fragments
.
His
chamber
was
not
only
shut
to
its
winds
,
but
it
seemed
set
in
a
high
tower
from
which
common
realities
showed
infinitely
small
and
distant
.
The
Presbytery
-
-
the
General
Assembly
-
-
the
Kirk
-
-
seemed
tiny
things
vanishing
down
the
perspective
of
an
inverted
spy
-
glass
.
He
was
armoured
against
censure
,
for
it
was
idle
to
censure
one
who
was
overwhelmed
by
his
own
unworthiness
and
who
at
the
same
time
saw
all
human
authorities
diminished
to
cockle
-
shells
.
He
had
no
fears
and
no
hates
:
God
had
smitten
him
,
and
,
humble
under
that
awful
rod
,
he
could
view
with
indifference
the
little
whips
of
his
fellows
.
He
did
not
blame
them
-
-
why
should
dust
accuse
dust
?
In
his
detachment
only
one
thought
affected
him
with
any
passion
.
He
retained
his
horror
of
the
Wood
.
If
he
were
to
fall
he
would
fain
have
brought
down
with
him
that
unholy
temple
.
For
Chasehope
he
felt
no
hatred
except
as
its
high
-
priest
;
the
man
himself
,
with
his
crazy
twisted
soul
,
was
rather
a
mark
for
pity
.
But
he
would
fain
have
rid
Woodilee
of
that
incubus
.
.
.
.
He
had
failed
,
and
Chasehope
was
the
victor
-
-
Chasehope
and
the
Wood
.
For
a
moment
his
mind
returned
to
realities
,
and
he
questioned
himself
if
he
had
left
anything
undone
.
This
day
his
original
libel
would
come
before
the
Presbytery
,
and
he
had
the
right
to
call
his
witnesses
.
But
where
were
they
?
Reiverslaw
had
been
absent
two
months
from
the
parish
and
had
not
yet
returned
,
and
without
his
testimony
Richie
Smail
and
Rab
Prentice
were
meaningless
voices
.
He
could
give
his
own
witness
,
but
that
the
Presbytery
had
already
officially
rejected
.
Let
it
go
-
-
the
Almighty
in
His
own
time
would
be
his
vindication
-
-
he
who
was
filthy
let
him
be
filthy
still
.
"
Ubi
molestiis
finitis
omnibus
Securi
cantica
Sion
cantabimus
.
"
But
even
in
his
secret
world
regret
penetrated
and
irked
him
,
for
Melanudrigill
was
nigh
to
the
greenwood
and
to
Paradise
.
The
old
kirk
on
the
brae
above
the
Aller
bridge
was
crowded
to
its
full
.
Never
had
been
so
large
a
meeting
of
Presbytery
,
both
lay
and
clerical
,
for
the
case
of
the
minister
of
Woodilee
had
made
a
great
talk
all
winter
in
the
glens
.
Woodilee
itself
,
now
purged
of
its
taint
,
was
strongly
represented
by
four
members
of
Session
,
and
in
a
prominent
place
at
the
Moderator
’
s
elbow
sat
Ephraim
Caird
.
As
David
entered
heads
were
averted
,
but
as
he
advanced
to
the
seat
prescribed
for
him
he
found
that
Mr
.
Fordyce
was
his
neighbour
-
-
Mr
.
Fordyce
heavily
muffled
in
his
ancient
plaid
,
and
with
a
face
whose
ordinary
sick
pallor
seemed
to
be
flushed
with
a
timid
excitement
.
He
seized
David
’
s
hand
,
and
his
own
was
hot
and
nervous
,
and
his
lips
moved
as
if
he
were
praying
under
his
breath
.
The
forty
-
third
Psalm
was
sung
,
there
were
two
lengthy
readings
of
Scripture
,
and
then
Mr
.
Muirhead
,
the
Moderator
,
constituted
the
Court
and
prayed
for
guidance
.
David
’
s
attention
wandered
,
though
he
tried
to
supplement
the
public
supplication
with
his
own
.
.
.
.
His
eyes
seemed
to
have
become
distorted
and
the
whole
assembly
have
gone
crooked
.
The
fathers
and
brethren
were
no
more
than
a
gathering
of
death
’
s
heads
,
their
voices
were
like
the
creaking
of
wheels
and
the
scraping
of
boughs
and
the
grinding
of
stones
.
The
Moderator
’
s
massive
visage
was
the
mask
behind
which
his
brain
ticked
small
and
foolish
like
a
clock
.
The
minister
of
Bold
was
only
a
child
,
a
petted
,
noisy
child
.
